Page 20 of Nightshade
FORBES WAS ALREADY in the interview room when Stilwell got to the bullpen at the sub. Lampley had turned on the room’s camera and was looking at Forbes on the computer screen at his desk.
“Are you recording?” Stilwell asked.
“Not yet,” Lampley said. “Now?”
“Yeah, now. Where’s Ramirez?”
“She went back out. Mercy had a call for her.”
“What call?”
“Somebody ran out on their tab at the Bluewater and she went to take a report, maybe go catch the guy before he gets on the ferry.”
“Then she might need backup.”
“I doubt it. Anyway, I want to watch the master do the interrogation.”
“Just be ready. If she needs you, I want you there.”
“Copy.”
Stilwell looked at Lampley’s screen. Forbes was sitting at the table but his back was to the camera.
“You put him in the wrong seat. The camera should be on his face, not mine. And he shouldn’t be by the door. He should have to go past me to get to the door.”
“Oh, shit, you’re right. I wasn’t sure where the camera was in there—we haven’t used this room since I’ve been here. I’ll go back in and—”
“No, I’ll handle it. You make sure Ilsa doesn’t need you. You can watch the video of this later. It’s recorded.”
“Copy that.”
Stilwell went into his office, locked his sidearm in a drawer, and grabbed his laptop. He then went to the interview room, where he was greeted by a sign on the door that said NO FOOD STORAGE . He wished he had taken that off when he cleared out the room.
He entered, startling Forbes, who now had his head down on the table.
“About time,” Forbes said. “I’m falling asleep in here.”
“Sorry about the wait,” Stilwell said. “Stand up for me, Duncan.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just the other side of the table. Stand up.”
Forbes slowly rose from his seat, confused by the need to switch. Stilwell saw that he was not a big man. Five eight, at most, with a lean build, long curly brown hair, and a dark complexion.
His hands were cuffed in front, which was another fuckup on Lampley’s part. But Stilwell was not concerned. He had sized Forbes up and knew he would be able to handle any confrontation. He had at least four inches and twenty-five pounds on the younger man. He had also been through the department’s physical-combat training.
Forbes moved around to the other side of the table and sat down.
“This is bullshit, man,” he said. “There’s no warrant on me. That’s old shit.”
Stilwell took the seat across from him.
“Actually, the warrant is still good,” he said.
“No way. Pot is legal now, in case you haven’t heard.”
“You’re right about that. But you jumped probation before that happened. The warrant isn’t for the pot charge. It’s for the probation violation. You understand? The warrant’s still good and that’s why you’re sitting here.”
“I understand that it’s complete bullshit.”
“Well, I can’t say I disagree with you, but the bottom line is there’s an arrest warrant that’s got your name on it. I think there’s a way we can take care of it and not have to send you over to the county jail. But you’ve got to work with me here, Duncan.”
“Work with you how? What the fuck is this?”
“Give me your hands and I’ll take the cuffs off. Then we can talk.”
Forbes reached his hands across the table and Stilwell pulled out his keys and freed him.
“Okay, let’s talk,” he said. “First of all, I’m Detective Sergeant Stilwell and—”
“Talk about what, man?” Forbes said. “I was minding my own fucking business over there when they show up and haul my ass away.”
“First things first. If you want to talk to me and get back over to Two Harbors tonight, you have to waive your rights.”
“What the fuck? You can’t be serious. This is a trap.”
Stilwell didn’t answer. He turned over a piece of paper that he had placed on the table after clearing out the room. He read the Miranda admonishment off it and then looked at Forbes.
“Do you understand your rights as they have been read to you?” he asked.
“What if I say no?” Forbes asked.
“Then you’re on the Express to the mainland and county jail. I’ll alert the probation department and they’ll handle it from there. You’ll need to get yourself a lawyer.”
“Oh, man, I can’t do that. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Did you listen to what I just read you? If you can’t afford an attorney, one will be appointed to represent you.”
“And how long is that shit going to take?”
“A few days, at least.”
“And I’m sitting in county for some bullshit warrant? Nah, man, I ain’t doing that shit.”
“Look, all I can tell you is I can’t talk to you or help you until you tell me that you understand your rights and that you waive them.”
“Okay, whatever, I waive.”
“Answer the question, Duncan. Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?”
“Yes, yes, I understand. And I waive. Let’s get whatever this is over with.”
Stilwell pulled a pen from his pocket and told Forbes he had to sign the rights form he had just read from. Forbes grabbed the pen and scribbled a signature.
“Okay?” he said. “Can we do this now?”
“We can sure try,” Stilwell said.
“Then ask your questions.”
“Let’s start with Leigh-Anne Moss. Tell me how you know her.”
“Who?”
Forbes shook his head and spread his hands. Stilwell studied his reaction. He saw no tell that would indicate Forbes knew the name or was anything other than surprised by the question.
“Leigh-Anne Moss,” Stilwell said again. “You know her.”
Once again, he didn’t pose it as a question.
“I got news for you, Deputy Doo-Dah,” Forbes said. “I know no one named Leigh-Anne Moss. That was easy. Can I go now?”
“Not quite,” Stilwell said. “You work on the Emerald Sea, right?”
“Sometimes, yeah. When I’m needed. It’s a part-time gig.”
“What do you do for this part-time gig?”
“I keep it clean and I help the guy who owns it sail it back and forth from MDR. That’s it. What’s it got to do with this bullshit warrant?”
Stilwell ignored the question. He opened his laptop and pulled up the DMV photo of Leigh-Anne Moss. He turned the screen to face Forbes.
“You recognize her?” he asked.
“Sorry, no,” Forbes said. “Is that the girl? Leigh-Anne?”
“You sure you don’t know her, Duncan? You lie to me, and I’m just going to book you into county. I’ll let your probation officer deal with the warrant. Those guys, they have awesome caseloads. You’ll be lucky if your PO gets to you in a month.”
“Fine, it’s a zero-bail county. They haven’t changed that yet.”
“It’s nice that you know that, Duncan, but the warrant’s got a no-bail hold. You’ll be in there till your PO decides to show up. And he won’t be in any hurry.”
“They can’t do that. It’s zero-bail.”
“They can do it for violations of probation and parole. And they’ll do it with you.”
Stilwell could see the panic start to enter Forbes’s eyes.
“Look, I’m not lying, man,” Forbes said. “I don’t know her. If I did, I would tell you, but I’ve never seen that girl in my life!”
“Purple streak in her hair?” Stilwell suggested.
“No, man, I don’t fuckin’ know her.”
“Well, we’re going to come back to her. Meantime, let’s talk about you. Two weekends ago, where were you?”
“I don’t know. I was here. No, two weeks ago I was fishing. We were booked the weekend before Memorial Day.”
“We’re talking about Saturday, May seventeenth.”
“Yeah, the seventeenth. I was fishing.”
“Fishing where?”
“We had clients. We were out the whole weekend. Up around Anacapa. We anchored off Frenchy’s Saturday night. I got pictures on my phone.”
Anacapa was one of the Channel Islands that included Catalina. It was to the north, was uninhabited, and was one of the smaller islands in the chain, but Stilwell knew Frenchy’s Cove was a popular shelter up there where overnighters anchored.
“Okay, where’s your phone?” Stilwell asked.
“I don’t know,” Forbes said. “Those two deputies took it from me. And by the way, neither one of them knows shit about running that Zodiac. I’m lucky they didn’t flip it out there. And I was cuffed. I coulda drowned, man.”
“Never mind the boat, Duncan. You’re here, you’re safe. When you say ‘We had clients,’ who are you talking about?”
“I crew on a boat at Two Harbors. Like with the Emerald Sea, but there’s more work out there. It’s fishing, not sailing.”
“What boat?”
“It’s called Sea Mistress . The captain is a guy named Tracey Bonnette. He’ll vouch for me. We were out the whole weekend.”
Stilwell stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
He stepped out of the room and closed the door. He went to Lampley’s desk and saw a property bag containing an iPhone, wallet, keys, and a thin fold of money. He opened the bag, took out the phone, and headed back to the interview room. As he sat down, he slid the phone across the table to Forbes.
“Unlock it,” he said.
“I’ll show you,” said Forbes.
“Just unlock it and give it back. I have the same phone. I’ll find the photos.”
Forbes tapped in a combination to open the phone. Stilwell caught the sequence—112392—and knew it was his birthday. Forbes slid the phone back across the table, and Stilwell opened the Photos app. He tapped the All Photos button and was presented with a gridwork of pictures he could scroll back through by date. When he got to May 17, he opened one of the photos and saw the stern of a sport-fishing boat crowded with smiling men holding up their catch. Halibut, yellowtail, lingcod, and calico bass—they’d had a good day on the water.
Stilwell used his thumb to slide through the other photos from the outing. Forbes was not in any of them, but it was his phone and it was likely he had been the photographer. One of the photos had been taken from an up angle and captured the boat captain—Bonnette, he assumed—looking down from the helm on the bridge. He wore mirrored sunglasses. Stilwell used his fingers to expand the photo, and in the mirrored lenses he saw a reflection of the photographer. It was Forbes.
The last photo in the day’s set showed a sunset from what Stilwell assumed was Frenchy’s Cove on Anacapa. The time stamp said May 17, 7:52 p.m. He moved on to the photos taken on May 18, and there were shots of men holding up fish and cans of beer. He also came across a selfie taken by Forbes on the bridge, where he was steering the boat. The time stamp on that shot read May 18, 10:13 a.m.
Stilwell thought it was a near-perfect alibi, even though there were several hours between the sunset shot on Saturday and the first photos of fishing Sunday. It could possibly be argued that Forbes had made his way back to Avalon during those hours, taken the skiff from the Black Marlin Club to the Emerald Sea in the middle of the night, and gotten back to Anacapa in time for a morning of fishing. But Stilwell put the chances of that at slim to none. He believed Forbes was telling the truth.